


Trouble at the garrison

by Em36



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3826918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em36/pseuds/Em36
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not everyone at the garrison were happy about having a young gascon farmboy training to be a musketeer, but they were more concerned that d'Artagnan had become friends with the three inseparables. A few musketeers, unhappy with this change, set to cause trouble for d'Artagnan and drive him away from his three new friends. (on hiatus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season one, after episode three.

Athos, Porthos and Aramis. These three names were well known throughout the garrison. They were skilled swordsmen, fighters, and marksmen. Each of them individually possessed a talent for handling dangerous situations. The three of them together were a near-unstoppable force, able to complete missions that would normally need a legion of at least ten musketeers to achieve. They had stopped plots to kill the King and Queen, protected nobles and ambassadors, but had also saved common Parisians and Frenchmen from criminals too. This had led them to become some of Captain Treville’s most trusted musketeers. 

Athos, Porthos and Aramis became brothers though the shared hardships and trials of their missions. They relied upon each other in battle, to watch each other’s backs and ensure that all three of them returned from each mission assigned to them. Trust between the three developed through these missions, and the trust continued to grow away from battles in their lives in Paris. Each of the three had their own personal hardships and struggles from their pasts that when alone could haunt them but with each other they were able to trust and rely on one another to help. Yet, their friendship was not only built upon this, their friendship also grew as when together they could joke, laugh and smile. All of this had resulted in these three musketeers becoming the inseparables.

All musketeers would sometimes train together, and during large operations work together. Other musketeers did hold a great deal of respect for the inseparables and a code of brotherhood existed between all musketeers, yet there was a distance between the inseparables and the other musketeers. The trust, the closeness, and friendship the inseparables had were exclusive to one another. A few others tried to join their group, or invite the three musketeers to join other groups in various recreational activities, but the inseparables remained a three, and other groups were content to be separate as that was the way life worked at the garrison….or at least that was how it used to work until a certain d’Artagnan charged into the musketeers’ lives. 

At first D’Artagnan appeared to be a brave fool when he stormed into the garrison and demanded a duel with one of the best swordsmen of the musketeers. It quickly became apparent during the fight between D’Artagnan and the three musketeers that this boy had talent. Then, the help he gave to Aramis and Porthos was vital in clearing Athos’ name and avenging the fallen musketeers. For this all the musketeers were grateful. 

Yet, this did not prevent many at the garrison from being surprised when d’Artagnan stayed. Although, the boy had demonstrated some raw talent, d’Artagnan was young with little experience in battle. Whereas many other musketeers had previously been soldiers while other musketeers had gained their commissions through the prestige of their noble family names. In contrast, d’Artagnan came from a humble background, from a small farm in Gascony, a generally quiet and peaceful area of France. Thus, it was a surprise to many that d’Artagnan chose to remain in the loud and busy Paris.

However, the biggest surprise came was not that D’Artagnan stayed and began training to be a musketeer. No, the garrison were more surprised when a friendship appeared to be forming between D’artagnan and the inseparables. He spent more time with them than any recruit had spent with the three musketeers before. They took time training him, but also spent time showing d’Artagnan the city and time relaxing at their favourite taverns. A friendship was forming, and after the four had returned from their mission dealing with Bonnaire in Le Havre, it was becoming more obvious that the inseparables were becoming a group of four….And a few other musketeers at the garrison were not happy with this.


	2. Chapter 2

 “It was kind of you to offer your help d’Artagnan” Constance said. She was standing by the kitchen table with d’Artagnan sitting on one of the old wooden chairs opposite her. D’Artagnan was helping her prepare the baskets of sample cloths that Bonacieux would need later. She had given the task of folding the cloths to d’Artagnan, while she arranged the folded cloths into the baskets on the table.

“You are very welcome.” D’Artagnan replied, fiddling with the last piece of cloth in his hands.  

Truth be told, having done this task many times before, Constance knew it would actually be quicker if she did the whole task herself. But she enjoyed having someone to talk to and have fun with while she worked. The house felt so full of life when d’Artagnan was here, Constance thought to herself.

A knock sounded at the door. Constance opened the door to reveal two tall musketeers. “Good morning Madame Bonacieux. The sun is shining, and it is a beautiful day,” Aramis proclaimed, as he and Porthos removed their hats and walked inside. Aramis’ dramatic entrance had Constance laughing. A delightful sound, D’artagnan noted. He looked up from where he sat and smiled at his two friends.

“Porthos and myself have finished our patrol, and decided to check that all was well at the Bonacieux household. We thought it would be best to check that our young friend here had not been causing you any trouble.” Aramis joking said, giving d’Artagnan a gentle pat on the shoulder.

“Terrible trouble”, Constance played along.

“Well we best take him off your hands then,” Aramis grinned at Constance.

Porthos rolled his eyes at the antics before turning to D’artagnan. “We’re going a short mission. You up for coming?”

“Of course. When do we leave?” D’Artagnan nodded. 

“Within the hour. It is a short distance away, so it shouldn't take more than today to complete.” Porthos replied.

Aramis and Porthos waited while d’Artagnan collected a saddle bag from his bedroom. After, d’Artagnan returns, they said farewell to Constance and left the house.

 

* * *

 

Athos’ eyes stared intensely at the map on the desk. His fingers traced along the route that they would shortly be taking, and was memorizing the roads. “You have been to this monastery before; the roads have not changed since the last time.”

Athos eyes flicker up, meeting Treville’s, before returning to the map. “One can always be better prepared. Knowing multiple routes will give us the advantage if we meet hostile forces on the way.”

Treville observed the lieutenant in front of him. Athos had consistently proven himself to be a hard worker, and willing to give copious amount of effort to ensure the success of a mission. His attention to detail made him a competent leader. Yet, Treville knew Athos’ current behaviour was not solely out of devotion to the musketeers. The recent extra workload Athos had taken on was a coping mechanism for the man when he was stressed or troubled. The dark circles underneath the man’s eyes indicated sleepless nights and a sign that Treville was correct in his hypothesis.

Treville had debated with himself whether or not to allow Athos to go on the mission. In the end, he had assigned a short, simple mission to his lieutenant. He hoped that a few hours out of the city will help Athos. With Aramis, Porthos, and d’Artagnan, the captain knew the man would be looked after well.

“After this mission, I’m giving you a day of rest. I don’t want you overworking yourself.”

He was not going to admit it out loud, but perhaps he was overworking himself Athos mused. It was true that ever since he had returned from La Fere, he had thrown himself into work in an attempt to distract himself from thinking about her, his not so dead wife. Drinking himself into oblivion might be a more preferable distraction to Athos, a method to dull the pain, but he knew the amount he would need to drink would worry Porthos and Aramis. He did not wish to be a nuisance to his friends.

Athos looked back at Treville. “That won’t be necessary…This road is shorter, quicker but is more vulnerable to bandits. There is a second road that is less vulnerable to attacks, but it is longer route.”

“Take the longer. There is no need to take unnecessary risks on this mission.” Treville gave the sealed letter to Athos. “Remember, to give it to the abbot at the monastery, before collecting the package from them.” Athos folded up the map he had been using and then placed the letter into his pocket.

 

* * *

 

After, the three of them arrived at the garrison, Aramis and Porthos excused themselves, leaving to collect their saddle bags from their rooms and get themselves ready for the trip. They assured d’Artagnan that they would be quick and that Athos should also be joining him shortly.

D’Artagnan waited in the courtyard for them to return, leaning against a wooden post near the stables. He watched two young musketeers sparing, taking note of their postures and forms.  Athos had been teaching him to take a greater notice of his opponents’ fighting styles. It was knowledge that would be strategically useful in a fight, but it was also a training exercise that could be practiced at the sidelines of a fight.

“Hey little boy.” The shout brought d’Artagnan’s attention away from his thoughts and to two older musketeers sitting and eating at a table opposite to where he stood in the courtyard. When their eyes met, d’Artagnan realised they were referring to him. “You lost, little boy?” One of the musketeers called to him.

D’Artagnan frowned, puzzled. He had spent a considerable amount of time at the garrison recently. Granted most of that time d’Artagnan had been with Athos, Porthos, or Aramis, and not much time with other musketeers. Yet, most musketeers did at least know his name, and d’Artagnan was trying his best to remember the names of other musketeers too. These two musketeers d’Artagnan was unfamiliar with.

He walked over to the table, before replying “The name is d’Artagnan. I’m waiting for Athos.”

“What business does a little boy like you have with Athos?”  The second man asked in his nasally sounding voice.

“Firstly I am no child. Secondly, I’m going on a mission with him, Aramis, and Porthos.”

The second man stood up and moved so he was standing in front of d’Artagnan. The musketeer looked down at the gascon, examining him. “So you’re the recruit, the inseparables have supposedly adopted.” There is a tense silence, as the musketeer continued to examine d’Artagnan. D’Artagnan stood his ground, not backing down from the musketeer’s intense gaze.

It was the first musketeer, the one still sitting at the table, who broke the silence, “Apologies, we have returned from a long mission that kept us from Paris for far too long.” He rose from where he sat to join his fellow musketeer in front of d’Artagnan. “My name is Randsley.” The second musketeer’s gaze broke away from d’Artagnan, and he shared a look with Randsley. Being able to communicate through looks was apparently a skill that all musketeers must have, d’Artagnan concluded.

The musketeer looked back at d’Artagnan, smiled as introduced himself. “I am Moura. Yes, we must apologize for our mistake and not realizing you were a recruit. They say only bearded men get commissioned by the king, but I suppose you are only a young recruit. I’m sure the time it will take to turn you into true musketeer material will be long enough for you to finally grow one.”

D’Artagnan’s tried to keep his face remaining neutral. He’s pretty sure the musketeer was joking. He must be. Fortunately, d’Artagnan was saved from trying to find a suitable response by a familiar musketeer calling his name. “D’Artagnan” Athos called. The said-boy looked up to see Athos walking down the stairs from Treville’s office.  

“Gentlemen…it was…nice to meet you.” D’Artagnan said, with a slight a bow of his head as a polite and respectful farewell.

“We’ll be leaving soon. We should get the horses tacked up” D’Artagnan nodded, acknowledging Athos’ words before heading to the stables.

He greeted his horse by running his hand along his horse’s neck. “Ready for a short trip?” he asked his horse. D’Artagnan quickly put the tack onto his stallion. When Porthos and Aramis arrived, d’Artagnan decided to lead his horse out into the courtyard to give the other musketeers more space in the stables. Whilst waiting for the others to appear, his eyes flickered from his horse to the other musketeers in the courtyard. Randsley and Moura were back at the table, and two were now talking to a third musketeer, one of the musketeers d’Artagnan had been watching spar earlier.

Lafferty joined Randsley and Moura at the table, as he was eager to hear about the two older musketeers’ trip. He also looked forward to finish updating the men on the dramas of the garrison. Lafferty looked back at Dorrell, his sparring partner, expecting him to also join them. However, Dorrell remained where he was with his eyes were focused on d’Artagnan. He watched as Aramis, Porthos and Athos emerged from the stables with their horses. Dorrell watched with eyes laced with envy and his fists clenched tight, as d’Artagnan mounted his horse and rode out of the garrison with the three inseparables.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, leaving kudos and comments. It's nice to see you're enjoying the story.
> 
> Just thought I’d give a warning that there is some fighting etc in this chapter. But, if you are fine watching the bbc musketeers series, then you should be fine reading this. 
> 
> On that note, I should maybe also mention that I sadly do not own the musketeers.

 

Dorrell turned around and stormed up the stairs towards Treville’s office. He walked in, not bothering to knock. “I want a mission.” Dorrell demanded from the captain.

Treville looked up from his desk to the musketeer in front of him. “Keep up with this attitude and you’ll be going nowhere. Today you are on duty here at the garrison. If you need a break from here, you can help give the horses exercise later. I am working on the plans for a field mission at the moment. I can maybe assign it to you but the mission will not be taking place until end of this week.”

“D’Artagnan is going on a mission today, and he is not even a commissioned musketeer. He’s barely been a recruit for less than a month.”

“Yes, but three experienced musketeers are with him. Both the mission and him will be fine.” 

“He should be the one here at the garrison. I should be out on the mission.”

“Enough. Firstly missions take time to plan, you should already know that. Once I've finished coordinating with the cardinal and the king, I can give you all the information you will need for your next mission. Secondly, having musketeers on active duty here at the garrison is just as important as having musketeers out on field missions. We need men here in case there is an attack on the garrison, or at the palace. It is not a slight against you or your skills, and again you have previously been taught this. Finally, D’artagnan’s training and missions are not open for discussion, and they do not determine your duties. One more word on the subject, and I’ll restrict you to the garrison in addition to giving your next field mission to someone else. Now get out of my office, I need to get back to planning the next mission.”

It seemed that Dorrell was going to stay and argue further with Treville. By looking at Dorrell’s posture and eyes, Treville could tell that the musketeer was seriously debating pushing the matter further. After a moment, Dorrell turned around and left Treville’s office, slamming the door shut behind him. Treville sighed at this behaviour. This was supposed to be a regiment filled with the finest, bravest and most loyal soldiers. Yet sometimes, more often than Treville would like, they seemed to be a regiment full of misbehaving adolescent idiots.

 

* * *

 

The journey to the monastery had been uneventful, just a few hours of straight riding. The monks had been courteous and polite towards the musketeers, giving them some food as well as the package they had been sent to collect. However, halfway through the return journey a group of bandits attacked.

“On your left” d’Artagnan shouted to Porthos. Porthos struck his sword to the left. A cry of pain indicated that he had taken down the bandit just in time, preventing bandit had a chance to lay a hit on him. “Thanks,” Porthos called back to d’Artagnan, who was still battling a bandit. Porthos looked round to Athos, who had just injured two more bandits. Aramis had his musket trailing the final bandits, ready to fire in case the bandits scrambling back into the woods changed their mind about fleeing. At last d’Artagnan managed to disarm the bandit and knock the man to the ground. Athos moved over to the bandit “Leave and do not return if you value your life.” The man, having realised he was alone and outnumbered, did not need telling twice and fled the scene.

“We should keep moving”, Athos said with his eyes on the woods the last bandits had fled to.

“The sooner we get to Paris the better” Aramis agreed.

“Aye, I’m hoping we’ll be back in time for tonight. I hear a card tournament is taking place at the Raven tonight. We should all go.” Porthos suggested, as the four returned to their horses. “They also do great beef stew there.”

“Well, now you’ve mentioned that, how can we not go.” Aramis replied.

“As long as there is good wine, I’m there.” Athos said.

“What about you d’Artagnan? Does going to the Raven tonight sound good to you?” Porthos asked.

D’Artagnan smiled, happy that the man cared about his opinion too. “Yes, it sounds good to me.”

“Now that our evening plans are arranged, may we continue with the mission,” Athos prompted, reminding them of their mission. So soon the four were riding on their way back to Paris.

 

* * *

 

At the busy tavern, they had finished eating and were now drinking wine. Aramis and d’Artagnan were sitting at one table. D’artagnan was enthralled by the stories of past adventures. Both men enjoyed dramatics so d’Artagnan was one of the few people who could put up with Aramis’ long, theatrical storytelling. In fact, Athos was pretty certain that d’Artagnan must be one of the only people to not only put up with it, but actually enjoyed the stories. This, of course, encouraged Aramis. Delighted that his words had captured his audience’s attention, Aramis was becoming more enthusiastic with the story. Or perhaps it was the wine Aramis was drinking.

Athos sat alone at a table with a glass of red wine in his right hand, while his left hand fiddled with his locket. He was near enough to Aramis and d’Artagnan that he could watch them. Yet still far enough away that he did not have to listen to the story. This manner of storytelling was not Athos’ preferred style. Athos preferred stories to be concise, and to the point, But he enjoyed watching his two brothers interact with each other, watching the light in their eyes and seeing d’Artagnan laugh at a particularly funny line.

Athos’ thoughts went to Thomas, his younger brother. Thomas and d’Artagnan would have gotten along well, Athos thought. His brother had always enjoyed stories too. He could remember a time when they were both children and their parents were busy, leaving him to watch and entertain his brother. He would entertain his brother by telling him a story. Sometimes, Thomas would be content to sit still and listen to Atho’s words. Other times, Thomas would interrupt him, making changes and ‘improvements’ to the story. As they got older, Thomas’ fascination of literature and stories grew. While Athos was practicing sword-fights, Thomas took to reading and writing. But now the house was gone, the books his brother had loved so much were gone, as was Thomas himself.

The wine in Athos’ glass was also gone. He reached for the bottle on the table, but this too was empty. Athos looked up around the tavern, trying to catch the barmaid’s attention so he could claim another bottle of red wine. In the process of doing so his eyes met Porthos’, who was sitting on the opposite side of the tavern. They shared a look, and he can tell Porthos is worried about him. He shook his head, trying to convey that he was fine. Porthos did not look convinced, but the man’s attention was brought back to the game he was playing with Randsley and Moura.

It looked like this was not going to be one of Athos’ better nights, Porthos sighed. He debated, leaving his game so he could accompany his brother. Randsley called his name, alerting him that it was his turn. He would finish his game first Porthos decided and then he would join Athos.

“Haven’t got all night you know, Porthos.” Randsley said. Porthos looked back at the game and the cards in his hand, before placing down one card. “Your turn Moura,” Porthos said, his attention now back to the musketeers he was sitting with.

“So tell us about your boy,” Moura asked. Porthos followed Moura’s gaze over to d’Artagnan.

Porthos thought carefully before answering. “Well, the lad is good with a sword. He’s going to make a fine musketeer one day.”

“Charming, Porthos. But, there are many good swordsmen. There must be something more, something special about him seeing as he caught yours’, Aramis’ and Athos’ attentions.” Randsley commented.

Porthos placed another card down on the table. “Aye, he is special, and a good friend.”

“Perhaps his young, boyish charms have something to do with it. I’m sure he must provide you and your friends with great entertainment” Moura challenged.

“Watch it. That is my brother you’re talking about.” Porthos argued back, defensively.

“Apologies Porthos, we were just trying to understand your interest with the boy,” Randsley tried to smoothly turn the conversation around. The plan was not to engage in a fight tonight. Yet, the conversation was over, Moura had pushed too far.

“As I said earlier, the lad has talent and is a good friend. Now if you’ll excuse me.” With great restraint Porthos stood up, leaving his cards and walked away from the table mid-game.

He walked over to Aramis and d’Artagnan sat. Porthos placed one hand on d’Artagnan’s shoulder, glanced over at Athos who had just finished another whole bottle of wine. He made eye contact with Aramis and proclaimed “Time to go.” After a short silent conversation between Aramis and Porthos, Aramis went over to help Athos to his feet. It would be his job tonight to ensure Athos’ made it home.

“Up you get lad. I’m taking you home.” Porthos spoke to d’Artagnan. The two of them followed Aramis and Athos out the tavern door.

“You know, it’s not far. I can walk the distance by myself.”

He and d’Artagnan started making their way towards the Bonacieux house, “I know but humour me.”


	4. Chapter 4

D’Artagnan watched his opponent swing their sword towards him. D’Artagnan moved his blade to block. At the last minute, his opponent changed the direction of their sword, and d’Artagnan felt his opponent’s sword touch his chest. “You’re dead. Let’s try once more.” Athos said.

Lafferty sat down with his bowl of porridge next with a group of musketeers. “Any explanations for why those two are sparring before breakfast.”

“We have duties at the palace today. They were uncertain whether they would have another chance to spar today.” Aramis answered as he collected his breakfast from Serge.

“D’Artagnan too?”

“Sadly not. Perhaps he can train here with you today.”

“I’m sure we can manage that” Lafferty smiled.

“Again,” d’Artagnan suggested, after Athos had defeated him once more.

 “Time for breakfast now.” Athos shook his head and then added “You have far too much energy in the mornings.”  

Once breakfast was over, Aramis and Porthos went on ahead to the palace, while Athos stayed at the garrison and waited for Treville. As they left, Aramis and Porthos passed Dorrell as he arrived at the garrison. Dorrell, like d'Artagnan, had an abundance of energy in the mornings. Thus, when he saw Athos standing alone at the bottom of the stairs, Dorrell decided to approach the man.

“Athos” called Dorrell, “Would you care to spar?”

“I’m afraid I must decline. I am due at the palace. There will be other musketeers, perhaps d’Artagnan, who could spar with you.”

Overhearing his name, d’Artagnan left the table and joined the two. D’Artagnan offered Dorrell a smile, which Dorrell did not return. Athos’ words, the rejection and the man’s inclusion of the recruit d’Artagnan as a musketeer irritated Dorrell. Yet, Dorrell did not get a chance to express any of his thoughts, as Treville emerged from his office.

“I must go.” Athos began to leave but paused, looked at d’Artagnan and said. “Stay out of trouble.”

Moura witnessed the exchange, but waited until Athos had left with Treville before speaking. “Calm yourself Dorrell. I’m in charge of musketeer training today. I can make sure you have fun.” Dorrell caught Moura briefly glancing over to d’Artagnan. The two musketeers looked back at each other. Dorrell was uncertain about exactly what Moura had planned but got the feeling it was not going to be enjoyable for d’Artagnan.

“Count me in,” Dorrell stated. Moura smiled and then moved to address the garrison.

“Musketeers,” Moura shouted, gaining the attention of all the musketeers in the garrison courtyard. “Since Captain Treville is spending the day at the palace, I will be in charge of your training today.” He proceeded to divide the musketeers into two groups. Moura sent one group to the firing station to practice with the muskets. Everyone else, including d’Artagnan, remained in the courtyard ready to practice sparring and hand to hand combat.

“D’Artagnan, Lafferty. You’re up first.” Moura stood back next to Randsley and Dorrell. They watched as d’Artagnan led with an attack, and many offensive manoeuvres. Lafferty was forced into defensive moves.

“He’s good.” Dorrell admitted quietly to the other two.

“Perhaps for a farmboy. Not good enough for musketeers though.” Moura replied.

D’Artagnan disarmed Lafferty, and knocked the musketeer to the ground.

“You were saying.” Dorrell said. “Your plan is not going to work.”

“The day is still young,” Moura countered.

“My turn,” Randsley shouted, approaching d’Artagnan.

The fight against Randsley was more challenging for d’Artagnan. Randsley was a seasoned soldier, having served in the musketeer regiment for over five years. It took longer, but eventually d’Artagnan was able to knock the musketeer to the ground. Thinking the fight was over, d’Artagnan was unprepared for when Randsley grabbed his leg and sent the gascon to the ground. D’Artagnan found himself pinned under Randsley, who struck him with several strong punches.

“First rule of a fight, never let down your guard,” Randsley explained loudly as he ended the fight. “A basic error.”

 “He’s not to blame. It is no surprise that a gascon farmboy lacks basic fighting knowledge.” Moura said, pausing to listen to the other musketeers laugh. D’Artagnan opened his mouth to defend himself but Moura continued “Not to worry musketeers, we will train hard with the little gascon. Dorrell, you’re up.”

Dorrell and d’Artagnan’s blades crossed. D’Artagnan was now fighting with a new determination to prove himself, whereas Dorrell used his pent up anger towards the boy to drive his fierce, strong blows. D’Artagnan’s found his strength was waning, having been sparring with Athos since dawn. Thus, it was d’Artagnan who ended up on the floor. The tip of Dorrell’s sword rested on d’Artagnan’s chest. Dorrell lowered his sword and then gave one quick kick to d’Artagnan’s side. “Bet you’re missing that farm of yours now,” he muttered to d’Artagnan.

“It appears that our lieutenant Athos has been too soft and generous with this boy. A mistake we will not be making today.” Moura spoke loud and clearly.  “On your feet little gascon.” 

 D’Artagnan stood to his feet. He had been content to let the insults about heritage pass, but he would not let the musketeers insult his friend. He stood and faced Moura. “Athos is a good and wise teacher.”

“Do not honour him with words. Prove to us that Athos has been a good teacher to you with your sword work.” Moura challenged.

“I will honour Athos with both words, and swords. He is a great musketeer. He deserves hon-” D’artagnan spoke until Moura interrupted him.

“-The boy thinks I have insulted our lieutenant. We, musketeers, do not need a lecture from a little gascon about the talents of a fellow musketeer. We know it true that Athos is a good swordsman and a good teacher, but I fear his judgement and teachings when it comes to you have become clouded by sentimental values.”

D’artagnan could not believe what he was hearing. The inseparables would not have let him join on their missions if they did not think him capable at fighting or felt that his presence would compromise the success of their missions. He did not speak these thoughts, but his expression conveyed to the musketeers his feelings on the matter.

Moura decided to explain further so that d’Artagnan could understand. “You recently lost your father, your last living relative, at the hand of a man imposing as Athos, did you not?” Moura paused, letting d’Artagnan focus on his words. “You also helped saved Athos from being executed who was falsely accused of murdering your father, did you not?” Moura paused once more. “Athos, Porthos and Aramis have trained you out of an owed debt, and then adopted you out of pity and guilt.”

D’Artagnan did not argue with the musketeer. His father had been murdered, and he had helped save Athos. Moura’s latest words did make sense. Did this mean that all of Moura’s words could be true? D’artagnan’s mind was racing. Suddenly, the courtyard seemed incredibly large, while D’Artagnan felt unbelievably small.

Moura continued speaking. “In the real world, you may be alone and outnumbered by enemies. I wonder, little gascon, whether they have prepared you for that. Let’s see shall we.”

After that, d’Artagnan found himself fighting three musketeers simultaneously. This fight was difficult, challenging and hard. Stubborn and determined, d’Artagnan was going to fight as hard as he could.

 

* * *

 

“We’re guarding a box.” Porthos stated.

“At least it is a beautiful box.” Aramis countered back.

Porthos and Aramis were guarding the hand crafted chest that was going to be presented to the Duke of Savoy as a gift when he arrived next week. Unfortunately, a mishap had resulted with the key to the palace vault not in Paris. The cardinal’s red guards had been sent to collect the key from another of the king’s many palaces. Athos, Treville and the cardinal had resumed making plans for the Duke of Savoy’s visit, meanwhile Aramis and Porthos were left with the task of guarding the royal gift.

“I don’t know what is worse. The fact I’m stuck with here guarding a box or being stuck here with you.” Porthos spoke.

“Both me and the box are deeply offended.” Aramis said, although he knew Porthos well enough to know the man was jesting.

“How long do you reckon we’re going to have to wait?” Porthos asked.

“Well it’s an hour ride there and an hour ride back. Add on the time for the fact they’re red guards and not musketeers….We are going to be waiting rather a long time.”

“Joy.”

 “Well we've got time to fashion this into excellent tale that generations will be telling for centuries.”

“Who would like a story about two musketeers guarding a box.”

“D’Artagnan would like it…and one day, hundreds of years from now, thousands of people will know of this great tale.”

“If in a hundred years, there are people interested in the lives of musketeers,  they're not going to care about two musketeers guarding a box.”

“So you admit it, the tales of musketeers would interest people in the future.” Aramis grinned. “Perhaps though you are correct, this particular day would not make for a good story.”

Porthos was dismayed that he had encouraged Aramis’ delusion of the future fame for the musketeers. Porthos did admit that Aramis had a talent for storytelling, but Porthos thought Aramis’ stories could be improved if they were less focused on the lives of the musketeers. However, he was content that Aramis had at least seen sense about creating a story about the two of them guarding the box.

Aramis could tell what Porthos was thinking so decided to tease his friend further, although he failed to notice the presence of a third person now in the room. “Perhaps a poem would be better.” Aramis said to Porthos.

“I did not know you had a taste for poetry Aramis,” a female voice said. Aramis and Porthos bowed their heads as they recognized the queen’s voice.  The queen and two of her ladies approached the musketeers.

“The man is either mad, or he is making verses,” Aramis quoted.

“Horace,” The queen identified the Latin poet and then asked “May I hear yours?”

Aramis panicked, knowing that a poem about the box would be rather unimpressive to a royal queen. “It is still a work in progress,” he said.

“Well, when you have finished it, I would like to hear it.”

“Certainly your majesty.”  The queen moved on wards with her ladies and left the room.

“I've changed my mind. I think this would be a good story to tell d’Artagnan later.” Porthos said, enjoying his friend's predicament.

 

* * *

 

It was not until the end of the day that they finally finished training. D’Artagnan was sitting on the steps that lead to Treville’s office, trying to summon enough energy so he could make the journey back to his lodgings. He had been fighting musketeers all day. When it was time for the groups sparring and firing muskets to rotate, Moura had kept d’Artagnan with him at the courtyard. He then forced the gascon to spar with every musketeer in the second group. D’Artagnan had done his best. Better than Moura had been expecting, but the continuous fights, always fighting more than one musketeer at a time, had left the young recruit exhausted, with aching muscles and with too many bruises.

 Randsley walked over to him. “Apologies, I know it’s been a tough day of training for you, but it is a tough and intense training process to become a musketeer. The musketeer regime is made up with only the finest and best soldiers. There are no exceptions on that rule. I do hope you can handle it.”

“I hope so too,” d’Artagnan muttered, as Randsley walked away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter, still a lot more to come :)


	5. Chapter 5

It had been a long and tedious day for Athos. He had spent the day with Captain Treville and the Cardinal, as they made plans for the Duke of Savoy’s visit. Halfway through the day they had presented these plans to His Majesty, but found that Louis had changed his mind over the location of where he would receive the Duke. This had resulted in numerous changes having to be made to the plans. Although it seemed his day compared with Aramis’ and Porthos’ had been less tedious.

“We spent the whole day guarding that awful box. A whole day! It took them a whole day to return with that key,” Aramis complained to Athos as they left the palace.

 “Aye, never trust a red guard to do a musketeer’s job,” Porthos said.

“We should have collected the key ourselves, and left the red guards with the dreadful box,” Aramis continued.

“Not sure if you could trust the red guards with the box. Perhaps we should have brought d’Artagnan along and left him with the box while we collected the key.”

“Once we have taught him palace etiquette, d’Artagnan can join us at the palace,” Athos reminded them.

“D’Artagnan would have despised guarding that box more than we did. He has too much energy for standing around all day. Leaving him at the garrison to train was the best option for him,”Aramis commented. 

“We can ask his feelings about this later when we see him,” Athos said. They were heading towards Athos' apartments, but would pass by the Bonacieux house to collect d'Artagnan on their way.

“Although if we hadn’t been guarding the box, I wouldn’t have been given the chance to write the Queen a poem,” Aramis told Athos.

Athos looked at Aramis, a question in his eyes.

“She requested it.” Aramis grinned at Athos.

Athos looked at Aramis, a second question in his eyes.

“I’m still working on it.”

Athos gave up with Aramis and looked at Porthos.

 “Yes he's serious. I know. See what I’ve had to endure?” Porthos said to Athos.

“Yes you have suffered greatly,” Athos agreed. “I imagine some wine will help you recover.”

“Aye it would,” Porthos replied.

Aramis gave them a wounded look. Porthos smiled and patted the man on the shoulder. “We’re only joking Aramis,” Porthos apologised. “Just promise after you impressed the queen with your poem, you won’t hang up the pauldron to become the resident royal poet.”

 “Porthos, I am and will always be a musketeer”

“Hear, hear.” Porthos laughed.

 

* * *

 

D’Artagnan was conflicted when he considered the training from today. He felt it was obvious that Moura disliked him, and d’Artagnan debated the reasons behind the harsh training. As he pulled off his shirt and looked down at the dark bruises that littered his body, he considered that perhaps this was not standard musketeer training.

Except, no musketeers had challenged Moura, all of them followed him without question. And as Randsley had told him, the musketeer regiment, as the King’s guard only accepted the highest calibre of soldiers. An intense, strict training program was to be expected.

He wished for his father, as he climbed into bed. His father would have listened to him and given him wise counsel. He could ask Athos, Aramis, or Porthos, but he did not wish to appear weak to them or to any of the musketeers. He wanted to show the musketeers that he could handle it, that although he was young and from Gascony, he could be a musketeer. He wanted to prove to them that he could be a great musketeer, he thought to himself as he drifted into sleep.

Downstairs there was a knock on the door. Constance opened it and found Athos on her doorstep. “Good evening Constance. Is d’Artagnan here? We were on our way to my apartment and were wondering if he would like to join us,” Athos asked politely.

“Sorry he won’t be able to join you this evening,” Constance said.

“Oh” Athos replied, and Constance realised that her response may have appeared too harsh.

“He’s fast asleep upstairs. Whatever your four did today completely wore him out. Exhausted he was when he arrived home. Almost fell asleep at the kitchen table,” Constance explained.

“He’s asleep?” Athos said surprised. This was unexpected. He would have to wait until tomorrow before he could see his protege. “We’re sorry for intruding on your evening. We’ll be on our way.” 

 

* * *

 

Randsley, Moura, Dorrell and Lafferty entered the tavern and settled themselves at a table in the corner. This tavern was far from garrison, in the seedier part of Paris, and not too far from the Court of Miracles. It may not have seemed like an ideal location, but it would be unlikely that they would be interrupted by other musketeers. 

 “I owe you a drink,” Randsley said to Moura. “After your slip at the tavern the other night with Porthos, I was uncertain if you would be able to restraint yourself today.” He called over the barmaid and ordered several bottles of wine.

“You were restraining yourself?” Dorrell asked, disbelieving. 

“I didn’t kill him, did I?” Moura replied. He took out his dagger, laying it on the table.

“Is that your plan? To kill him?” Lafferty asked, eyeing the dagger.

They paused their conversation as the barmaid returned with their drinks. Moura waited until she had left before continuing. “We plan to break him,” he said.

“It’s a tradition, we have. Every so often, we choose a recruit and we break them,” Randsley added.

“Like a game?” Lafferty asked.

“Exactly like a game,” Randsley said, pulling out a deck of cards.

“How do you plan to break him?” Dorrell asked.

“That is what we are deciding upon tonight,” Moura said.

“The stakes of the game are higher this time. We have a chance to not only break d’Artagnan, but the inseparables themselves.” Randsley said, as he laid out four aces on the table.

“Would it not be easy to kill them?” Dorrell asked.

Randsley took a sip of his wine and then replied. “Killing the inseparables would draw too much attention. The three musketeers, despite all their flaws, are skilled and so we will not kill them. They have favour with the King, their deaths would be too noticeable.” He placed the king of diamonds on the table.

“Our aim will be to break the hold they have over the musketeers though, to take away their influence, and to destroy the bond they have with each other. The three musketeers will survive, but the inseparables will not.” Randsley continued.

Dorrell listened to everything the older musketeer had to say, and watched as Randsley laid out more cards on the table. Dorrell had been a commissioned musketeer for over a year now, and thus was surprised to learn that Randsley was the strategic thinker of the pair. He had previously assumed that Moura that devised the plans. Moura was the louder one, forever speaking of upholding the standards of the musketeers. Dorrell realised he had perhaps underestimated Randsley. Both of these men were dangerous, especially when allied together.

 “Killing the four of them may be possible. Musketeering is a dangerous profession. We could sabotage a mission, and make it seem like an accident. It would not draw attention to us, and have more immediate results,” Dorrell argued, wanting to impress the men. 

“We have a chance to change the balance of power between the factions at the garrison. We are not simply destroying the inseparables but taking their influence for ourselves. It is a more intricate process,” Randsley argued as he began to arrange the cards.

 “It is impossible to gain the influence and power you are after,” Lafferty shook his head. “Have you forgotten it is Treville and the king who are in control the garrison?”

Moura and Randsley shared a brief look with each other, deciding how much to tell the other two. “Yes, we are aware. You need not worry,” Randsley assured.

Randsley moved the king of diamonds to the centre of the table. It was positioned next to the queen of diamonds, and the jack of hearts and the jack of spades. The four aces were positioned underneath the jack of spades. Randsley moved four more cards so they were parallel with the aces – the seven, the eight, the nine and the ten of hearts. Randsley began to lay out the rest of the numbered cards in a line at the bottom of the table.

 “We agreed to help you deal with d’Artagnan. We didn’t agree to revolutionize the garrison,” Dorrell asked, concerned.

“You need to focus on the larger picture. Once we have influence, we can start cleansing the garrison. Removing all inferior musketeers,” Moura said, as he began collecting the clubs and spades from the bottom line.

“There are only four of us. Revolutionising the garrison will take more than four of us,” Lafferty said, looking at the four cards on the table that he presumed represented them.

“Our group is larger than you know. Once we are sure that the two of you are trustworthy, we will reveal more,” Moura said. He moved more hearts and diamonds from the bottom line to next to the cards that had been representing them. Lafferty and Dorrell watched this with interest.

“Today was also test to see if other musketeers would defend Athos and d’Artagnan, or if they would obey us.” Randsley revealed as he helped Moura to arrange the cards.

“Is that d’Artagnan’s role in this? He’s your test?” Dorrell asked.

“Athos, Porthos and Aramis. From the information I have been gathering, they care for the boy deeply and consider him to be a brother. The brotherhood, this bond they share, it is their greatest weakness.” Randsley explained, as he used the dagger to move the ace of clubs away from the other aces. “Remove one and you break the set.” Randsley stopped there, deciding that they had revealed enough of their plans tonight. 

“And let’s not forget, he is still an inferior farmboy. Breaking him will be good for the garrison,” Moura said as he picked up the ace of clubs, “and he also makes an excellent game.”

“We are not asking the two of you to transform the whole garrison. We are just hoping you will be two players in our game against the little gascon.” Randsley said, as Moura moved the ace of clubs towards Dorrell and Lafferty.

Dorrell drank more of his wine while he considered all he had heard. “I guess we can manage that. What do you need us to do?”


End file.
